


Cleaning Service

by bubbletea



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, April Showers 2015, Costume Kink, Dubious Consent, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 13:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3853237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbletea/pseuds/bubbletea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Masaomi makes a deal with Izaya - information in exchange for treating Izaya as his 'master' for a day. Maid costume included, of course. </p>
<p>Re-post of a very old DRRR!! kink meme fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleaning Service

**Author's Note:**

> Re-post of a very old fill from the DRRR!! Kink Meme. Original prompt: 
> 
> "For some reason (maybe he lost a bet, maybe he's paying for information)Masaomi is forced to wear a maid's uniform, high heels, panties, the works, and "serve" Izaya for a day. And call him master. 
> 
> Bonus points if Izaya makes Masaomi lean over to clean something, and at some point forces him to sit in his lap."
> 
> Unrepentant smut. General warning for some shady consent.

A maid costume.   
  
A  _maid costume._  
  
Masaomi nearly passed out when he saw it. He stared at it, all ruffles and - oh, God, were those  _panties?!_  - and wondered how easy it would be to just make a break for it now. Surely, no amount of information was worth this. But if it was for Mikado's sake...  
  
All the while Izaya stood there, looking as smug and irritating as always, watching Masaomi with the bright anticipation of a cat stalking it's prey.   
  
"Well? Go ahead, put it on."  
  
"W-What, you mean, like...here? Like... _now?_ "  
  
Izaya nodded, and didn't move. So he wasn't going anywhere, and Masaomi was really going to have to do this. Maybe, if he was really, really lucky, the earth would open up and swallow him whole first. Or maybe an asteroid - or one of Shizuo's vending machines, that would work, too - would fall right on top of Izaya. Maybe.   
  
But no, no such luck, and Izaya just stood there and watched as Masaomi fumbled through undressing. He had his back to Izaya, hiding the bright flush on his cheeks as he stood wearing nothing but his underwear. And then Izaya chimed in:  
  
"Don't forget the panties~"  
  
_Oh, God._  The panties. Masaomi picked them up and held them out as if they might explode. They were impossibly tiny, lacy, and all-but see through. He was in the process of wondering just how he was going to fit into them when he felt a pair of arms twine around him.   
  
"Want me to help you put it on?" Izaya pressed up against him, his breath hot in Masaomi's ear. His fingers played across the blond's bare skin, across his stomach and a little lower still....  
  
"T-That's okay!" Masaomi literally jumped away from Izaya, backing up as far as he could and holding the ridiculous panties in front of him, as if that might somehow keep him at bay. "I, uh, you know, I think I can handle it. On my own. Without your help."   
  
Izaya smiled that cold little non-smile of his, and shrugged.   
  
"But you  _do_  need my help, Kida-kun - that's why you're here, isn't it?"   
  
_Bastard._  Of course. Of course he did - Izaya knew it, and Masaomi knew it, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it.   
  
Izaya was still watching him.   
  
Nothing to be done, but go ahead and get dressed. 

* * *

First: it was way, way too short.   
  
Every time he so much as moved the back of the damned dress hiked up, showing off those awful, thin, lacy panties that Masaomi refused to believe could really be considered underwear.   
  
Second: he did not understand how anyone could walk in heels.   
  
The shoes were black, shiny monstrosities with little bows on the side and a four-inch heel. He wobbled, rather than walked, around the room, and already he could feel his legs starting to cramp. While Masaomi, admittedly, had always appreciated the sight of an attractive woman in heels - what normal guy wouldn't, right? - he suddenly found himself with a whole new sort of respect for any woman that could pull wearing these things off.   
  
Third: Izaya was enjoying this  _way too much_.   
  
"I believe I asked you to call me 'master.'"  
  
Somehow, that damned perpetual smirk on Izaya's face was even  _more_  infuriating than usual, and Masaomi honestly hadn't thought was possible. Of course, he had never imagined that he would find himself in this particular situation, either.   
  
"Your tea... _master_ ," Masaomi said, through clenched teeth, as he sat a dainty little cup on Izaya's desk.   
  
"That's better." Izaya traced his finger around the rim of the cup, absently, watching Masaomi with bemused interest. "You know, I think the room could do with a little tidying up, don't you? Why don't you see to it?"   
  
"Sure, whatever." Izaya arched an eyebrow and Masaomi added, " _Master._ "  
  
The room was, surprisingly, very clean already, and as Masaomi tried to busy himself with picking at various things - shifting and re-shifting and shifting again the same pile of books on the table - he was keenly aware of Izaya's gaze tracking his every move. How many more hours did he have to keep this up?   
  
A sudden clatter, and Masaomi turned to see the entire contents of Izaya's desk shoved rudely onto the floor - even the teacup, which shattered as it fell, leaving a mess of tea soaking into the hardwood floor.   
  
"Oh, no, would you look at that?" Izaya said, with melodramatic flair, "What a mess! Kida-kun, you'll have to clean it up for me."   
  
"Yes... _master_."  
  
Masaomi moved, stiffly, to pick up all of the junk that Izaya had just thrown on the floor: a mess of papers and shattered porcelain, and a weird game board with mismatched pieces that had gone everywhere. He bent over to pick them up, keenly aware as he did so that the dress was doing very little in the way of covering him. Izaya, of course, didn't miss that either.   
  
"That's quite an excellent view, there, Kida-kun," he mused, and Masaomi's entire face turned a bright, rather unflattering shade of red.   
  
"H-Hey! What's wrong with you, saying stuff like that?!" Masaomi sputtered, straightening up and trying, desperately, to tug the hem of the dress down. "What kind of a pervert are you, anyway, huh?"   
  
Izaya made no comment on this, and instead gestured at the mess on the floor.   
  
"Looks like you still have work to do, Kida-kun," he said. "Make sure you pick  _all_  of it up. And, you know, I'm not really sure how many times I have to tell you this - I'm not a pervert. I'm your master."   
  
Masaomi muttered something unintelligible and set about half-heartedly picking things up again.   
  
"What was that, Kida-kun?" Izaya said, chin perched on his folded hands as he stared, intently, at the smooth curve of the blond's bottom peeking out from beneath the ruffles of taffeta and cotton.   
  
"I said, 'Screw you,  _pervert._ '"   
  
Masaomi unceremoniously dumped the accumulated mess back onto Izaya's desk in an unorganized pile. He started to turn away, when a surprisingly strong hand grabbed his wrist and tugged him forward. He fell right on top of Izaya, situated precariously in his lap. He froze - something about Izaya's expression had changed, into something colder, dangerous. His breath hitched and an urgent knot of anxiety curled it's way into his stomach. What was he about to do?   
  
"It's just not sinking in, is it?" Izaya still had his hand clasped on Masaomi's wrist, and the other was now sliding up the blond's stockinged leg. "Looks like you need a lesson in obedience, my darling little maid."

Masaomi knew what it was like to be scared.   
  
He wasn't sure that this was quite the same, but he was frozen none the less, trembling just a little as Izaya's hands strayed further up his leg.   
  
"What are you...?"   
  
"Just how badly do you want that information, Kida-kun?" Izaya's voice was low, cool. "It was something about that little friend of yours, wasn't it? It must be awfully important."   
  
Masaomi made no response to that. He didn't need to - Izaya already knew the answer.   
  
"But I have to say, you agreed to this more easily than I would have expected. Perhaps you  _like_  playing servant?" Izaya's fingers brushed across thin, lacy fabric, and Masaomi's whole boy tensed. "So then, which one of us is really the pervert here?"   
  
"I  _don't_  like it," Masomi protested, none too convincingly.   
  
"Oh, really? Your body seems to be enjoying it well enough."   
  
He couldn't deny how quickly it was affecting him - cool fingers and thin fabric working against him, irresistible heat and friction. Instinctively, he made a small noise and a shifted his legs a little wider.   
  
"Let's play a little game," Izaya whispered, close in Masaomi's ear. "We're going to have fun together, Kida-kun, but I'm going to make sure you really think of me as your master."   
  
Masaomi opened his mouth to protest, but the words were cut off by a sudden gasp as Izaya's hand closed firmly around his length. A game? Just how was he supposed to play along with that, what with the way Izaya was touching him, stroking him just  _so_ , and it wasn't that Masaomi _wanted_ this, no, not at all, but God he was so hard already...  
  
And, just as abruptly, Izaya stopped. It startled Masaomi enough that he made a small, whining noise of protest before he could catch himself.   
  
"Bend over."   
  
It was a command - direct, authoritative, unquestionable. Masaomi did as told, gingerly shifting off of Izaya's lap and bending over the desk. That damn skirt fluffed up as soon as he did, perfectly showcasing his rear end, useless panties and all. And there was Izaya, of course, touching him everywhere except for where Masaomi  _wanted_  him to - not that he cared to  _admit_  that he wanted it, but it was hard to deny the urgency of his stiffening erection, which Izaya was pointedly ignoring. Instead he trailed his hands along Masaomi's thighs, just beneath the hem of the ruffled dress, following the smooth curve of his leg upward.  
  
"I could make this easy on you, but since you're my maid, you get to do the work this time," Izaya said, tracing a slow circle against Masaomi's skin. "So, Kida-kun...I want you to fuck yourself."  
  
"Y-You...what?!"  
  
"Oh, don't be so shy - I'm sure you've done it before."   
  
Masaomi stammered, cheeks burning. He must have made quite a sight right then: dress hiked up around his hips, legs spread, one hand reaching awkwardly behind him, face obscured by a mess of blond bangs as he glanced over his shoulder. He fumbled, hesitantly, working around the thin, ineffectual barrier provided by his panties.   
  
" _A-Ah!_ "  
  
Masaomi jerked when the first finger pressed inside him - slowly, carefully. His curled his other hand against the wood of the desk, and he bit back another sharp gasp as he pressed a little deeper.   
  
"Like...that?"   
  
"What did I ask you to call me?" A slight note of impatience.   
  
" _Mmn_...is this good...master?"

He could just see the twisted little smirk on Izaya's smug face. The bastard was standing there - just  _standing there_  not doing a damn thing. 

Masaomi curled his fingers, a high, whining noise catching in his throat at the movement. It wasn't enough, it just wasn't  _enough_ , but he didn't want to admit he wanted - needed - more. As if it weren't bad enough that he always had to rely on Izaya for just about everything else, he wasn't going to give that smug bastard the satisfaction of having him beg for this, too. 

At least, that was what he told himself - but, like so many of Masaomi's plans, this too was crumbling right before his eyes. 

"You look like you could use some help." Izaya hovered just behind him, still, infuriatingly, not touching. Not touching anything at all. "How about it, Kida-kun?" 

" _God_ , just..." Another twitch of his fingers, and a soft, needy gasp. "Just, please..." 

"'Please,' what?" 

_Please let this be over so I can go pretend it never happened? Please let me come to my senses and realize this is some weird, messed-up dream? Please let me not say what I think I'm about to say?_

"Please, master," he breathed, cursing himself for how pitifully desperate he sounded.

_Please - I want you to touch me. To fuck me. To do something. Anything._  

"Ah, see, you  _are_  learning." Izaya's hand ghosted along the bare exposure of Masaomi's rear, ever so faintly. "Since you asked so very nicely, maybe I'll give you what you want." 

Izaya's hand closed around his wrist, pulling it away. He quickly replaced Masaomi's fingers with his own, slick and cold as he pressed into the young man, and where had he even gotten lube from, anyway? Not that it mattered - whatever mysterious place Izaya kept such things was about the last thing on Masaomi's mind at the moment. 

Belatedly, he recognized the sound of a belt and zipper being undone, that knowledge registering only a moment before Izaya's erection nudged against him. An anxious little thrill coursed through Masaomi at that. 

"Wait," he stammered, hair and ribbons falling messily across his face as he tried to turn towards Izaya, "I'm not ready, don't - "

He let out a startled little yelp when Izaya smacked his bottom, hard.  _That_  had certainly come out of nowhere. 

"Good servants don't talk back to their masters," Izaya chimed, much too cheerily, "Now, be a good boy and spread those pretty legs of yours for me, unless you want to be spanked again." 

He did as he was told, spread impossibly wide as the other man pressed inside him.   
  
Without a word of warning he thrust, sharp and hard, sending a jolt of searing sensation through Masaomi. Again - and again, shoving up the satin skirt and grasping at Masaomi's hips with each rhythmic thrust.   
  
He couldn't think. He could barely stand, could hardly even see when every single movement sent jolts of pain tinged with an edge of pleasure coursing through him. His own erection strained, neglected, trapped against the desk.   
  
"Please, master," he gasped, not caring anymore how much he begged, "Touch me, please…"   
  
He was answered with another sharp smack on his bottom.   
  
"Who said you could mouth off like that, hm?"   
  
"But, master - ah!" He was cut off with another slap, leaving his skin red and stinging.   
  
"Don't forget your place," Izaya purred in his ear. "Remember, I'm the one giving the orders here. But maybe, just maybe, if you beg for it a little more…"   
  
_Beg for it?_  Whatever little semblance of dignity Masaomi might have had left fled then as he did just that, voice high and embarrassingly needy as he stumbled over pleaded words. It wasn't like he even cared at this point - he might as well have truly been Izaya's slave, bound as he was by this dizzying rush of sensation. Finally - oh, god,  _finally_  - Izaya touched him, purring dirty little whispers as slender, skilled fingers curled around Masomi's length. It was too much, too much, and when he climaxed, releasing into Izaya's hand, Masaomi didn't even recognize his own raw voice:   
  
_"Master!"_    
  
Izaya's low laughter rang distantly in his ears - Masaomi thought he said something, another jeering comment to be sure, but the words blurred, dulled by the shuddering pleasure coursing through his body.   
  
Behind him Izaya jerked and grunted as he came, the warmth of his release trickling down Masaomi's thighs. He leaned back, and it was all Masaomi could do to keep himself from collapsing after he pulled away.   
  
"Not bad." By the time Masaomi mustered the energy to turn around, Izaya was already seated at his desk again, looking as cool and unflappable as ever. "Now, why don't you go clean yourself up? It would be a shame for you to get that lovely outfit dirty."  
  
A pause, and a smile that sent a cold, cold shiver down Masaomi's spine.   
  
"Especially when I plan on seeing you in it quite often." 


End file.
